


In Old Country, Birthday Bashes YOU!

by sneaqui



Series: How will the dead be raised? [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky, Comeplay, M/M, Rimming, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneaqui/pseuds/sneaqui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="lazulisong.tumblr.com">lazulisong</a>'s <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/happybirthdayjbb/profile">BUCKY BARNES' BIG BIRTHDAY BASH</a>! Thanks for hosting the party, lazuli! /blows noisemaker</p><p>Here have some straight-up smut with no plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Old Country, Birthday Bashes YOU!

**Author's Note:**

> (Takes place in an existing verse but can absolutely be read separately. All you have to know is that, in this case, Steve is/used to be the Winter Soldier. And now you know!)

When they were little kids, Bucky used to begrudge Steve his summer birthday. No one in Brooklyn ever felt like celebrating by the time March rolled around, everyone sallow and wrung out after a long winter. Low-hanging gray sky and black snow banks.

Bucky’s ma used to try and appease his pouting by saying that his birth month was just like him: both lion and lamb. _Not like that Rogers kid_ , she’d say out of the side of her mouth, smiling. _That kid doesn’t have an ounce of give in him._

Which could be why after almost two hours of wearing Bucky out last night, Steve’s at it again. Waking Bucky up at whatever the hell time it is right now for another round. Since Doctor Banner lowered the dosage of Steve's SSRI, his libido has shot right through the roof.

Bucky can’t even tell what time it is, the sky outside their apartment window an oppressive, slate gray. Could be five a.m. Could be noon. Fucking March.

Steve is a warm, heavy presence along Bucky’s back as he presses a trail of wet kisses down Bucky’s ribs. “This okay?” He asks between one and the next.

Bucky chuckles and stretches out with a long groan, pushing his ass up against Steve’s cock. “The fuck kinda question is that, Rogers? Sucker that I am, you think I can say ‘no’ to you?”

“We don’t have to, if you’re too tired,” Steve says, mock apologetic but slightly choked as he grabs Bucky by the hips and slides his dick between his ass cheeks. “I know I’m not easy to keep up with.” 

“ _One day_ , Rogers,” Bucky grouses. “All I ask for is one day without you giving me shit.”

Steve pulls away then, the jerk, and sits back on his heels. He cups Bucky’s ass in his big hand, kneads and spreads it open to rub his thumb against Bucky’s hole. “Is today special for some reason? I don’t remember.” The direction of his voice tells Bucky that Steve’s staring down at his hole, watching as he presses the tip of his thumb inside, pulling Bucky gently open until some of Steve’s come from last night leaks out.

Bucky groans and pushes his ass back so that the whole of Steve’s thumb slides inside of him. “Liar,” he groans.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, tone serious and sorrowful, “We didn't celebrate birthdays in Soviet Russia.” He pulls his thumb out and slides it back in, fucking Bucky slowly, pressing against his walls.

Bucky’s prostate begins to throb under Steve’s ministrations, and he moans, pressing his forehead into his pillow as Steve continues, "Birthdays were for bourgeoisie scum. The proletariat all had one birthday: November 7th, the date of the Great Socialist Revolution.”

Bucky barks out a laugh at the same time that he moans, turning it into a funny hiccuping sound. "You’re so full of shit,” he says. He rolls his hips, pushing his ass back onto Steve’s thumb. “Ah, God, Steve. More,” he whimpers, getting his stump and his left shoulder underneath him so that he can free up his right hand to stroke his cock.

Steve growls and pulls his thumb out of Bucky’s ass. Before Bucky can turn around and smack him for it, he feels warm breath against his hole and the tickling, textured slide of Steve running the flat of his tongue over it.

“Shit, shit,” Bucky pants. He reaches back to grab Steve by the roots of his hair, holds his head in place so that he can ride his tongue. “Deeper,” Bucky says, and Steve gets the picture and points his tongue so that Bucky can fuck himself on it.

Of the two of them, Bucky’s always been the pushy one in the sack. Steve seems to be all for it, if the way he moans hard enough to light up Bucky’s insides is any indication.

Bucky hears the rapid slide of skin on skin, feels the mattress tremble as Steve starts to jerk himself off.

Bucky growls, "You waste that orgasm on the mattress, I'm gonna deck you, Rogers."

Steve pulls his tongue out of Bucky's ass abruptly, gasping, and Bucky feels the sheets being yanked this way and that as Steve searches the bed frantically for the lube. Bucky snickers and rolls over onto his back, cupping his balls and stroking his cock slowly as he watches Steve.

Steve’s digging through the sheets with one hand while keeping the other wrapped around his dick, like it’s a goddamn divining rod.

At last, Steve locates it and breathes a heartfelt, “Oh, thank god,” as he pops the cap open with trembling fingers and coats his dick.

He looks up at Bucky then, and one side of his mouth ticks up in that smile that’s always knocked Bucky off his feet. His hair is pointing in four different directions and he’s flushed all the way up his neck, almost to his eyes. “What are you looking at?” he says, in that moment looking every bit the gawky boy that Bucky fell in love with so long ago.

Bucky smiles like the sap he is and nods his head up. “C’mere,” he says.

Steve walks on his knees until he’s cradled by Bucky’s thighs, and when Bucky reaches down to guide him inside, he breathes, “Buck, you sure you don’t need-”

“I got enough of you inside of me from last night,” Bucky says and cants his hips to sink down onto Steve’s cock.

They both groan, pulling at each other to get closer. Steve presses the length of his body along Bucky’s front, and sets up a slow, rolling rhythm that builds heat at the base of Bucky’s spine.

Bucky leans up to kiss him, reaches down to grab his ass and feel the pistoning of his hips.

Steve is breathing those calming breaths that his therapist taught him, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He presses his forehead to Bucky’s and whimpers, “Buck. I’m not gonna- I’m gonna-”

Bucky curls up into Steve and lets his lips graze his ear when he says, “Come, Steve.” And Steve does, shuddering and gasping like he’s been punched in the gut as he spills inside of Bucky.

“Keep going,” Bucky pants into Steve’s ear, desperate. “Keep fucking me, Stevie. Fucking Christ.”

Steve leans his entire weight on him, and the friction against Bucky's cock has him coming, arm wrapped around Steve’s neck and lips pressed to his temple.

They lay there breathing against each other’s skin, and Steve says, “I did remember your birthday, you know. Got you a present and everything.”

“Good thing,” Bucky says, already drifting back into sleep, scritching Steve’s head where it’s resting on his shoulder. “Because after that one year when you forgot-”

“Good Lord, Buck, I had pneumonia,” Steve protests.

“Likely story,” Bucky, smiling.

After a beat of silence, Steve says, “You know, in Russia-”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish before Bucky bursts out laughing. It sets Steve off too, until they’re both nearly crying with it, shaking the mattress.

“I’m serious, Buck,” Steve says, breathless, wiping his eyes. “You’re not supposed to wish someone a happy birthday before their birthday. It’s bad luck. You’re not even supposed to mention it in case…” He trails off. And when he speaks again it’s a bit quieter. “In case they don’t make it to their birthday.”

Bucky pulls Steve’s head up off his shoulder so he can look him in the eyes when he says, “But we made it didn’t we, Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, smiling. “Yeah, we did.”


End file.
